


Little Bird, Where's Your Nest?

by gardakuka



Series: Soulstorm [6]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Fluff, Insecurity, Misunderstandings, POV Catelyn Tully Stark, POV Sandor Clegane, POV Sansa Stark, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:41:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25638211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardakuka/pseuds/gardakuka
Summary: Soulmate AU, in which you have a chance to see the world through your soulmate eyes for an hour on their nameday.
Relationships: Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark, Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Series: Soulstorm [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1625113
Comments: 174
Kudos: 439





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A belated birthday present from me to myself.  
> I was in a bad shape for the past month, and I still am. Sorry for it.

The first time it happened Sandor had seriously freaked out.

He was guarding the crown prince’s room, who finally fell asleep after long hours of crying and whimpering, just like always. His head hurt, and Sandor closed his eyes for a second.

And opened them to realise there wasn’t a dark hall of one of the Red Keep’s wings. He saw a blue sky in a window frame instead. He thought that he had never seen such a deep colour in his short life.

And then he freaked out.

He tried to move, but there was no way he could get back control of his body. He tried to open his mouth and shout for help, even if it would make him seem weak in the eyes of the fellow soldiers, but there was no sound coming out of his throat. He wasn’t even able to curse, and  _ that  _ was a huge problem.

  
So he was left there staring into a deep blue sky in a window frame. Sandor had no idea how long it took him to calm down and gather his thoughts, but when he finally cleared his mind of curses and fears, he heard a  _ giggle _ .

There was a tiny bird on the windowsill. Sandor had no idea what was its name, he had never met such birds in King’s Landing, nor his native Westerlands. The bird was preening and making quiet chirps, and its actions were met with a  _ giggle _ . A melodic childish giggle, coming from the body Sandor was somehow trapped in.

And it was when Sandor had finally realised that he had a soulmate.

  
  


***

He didn’t think of the possibility of getting a soulmate. Not at all.

He was a sour young lad with a damaged face, and body, and soul. He was a fierce warrior who had already tasted his first kill, his first wine, his first woman. He was a sworn shield of the crown prince. He was a mere dog who was trained to obey the orders of its masters. People like him didn’t have their soulmates.

He was used to his life where he was alone and devoted to the people he served. He was almost six and ten, after all.

Sandor decided to jam the thoughts of having a soulmate into the farthest corner of his mind and pretend that it was just a dream. He spent too much time dealing with Joffrey and his cries and his fussing maids. He was simply worn down, that’s why he saw that weird dream.

Everything fell into a well-known routine, and Sandor was fine with it.

Somewhere deep inside he had a weak hope that he would see that weird dream once again. On the same day as the last year, of course. If he truly was able to see the world through his soulmate’s eyes, it had to happen on their nameday, it was known. It was a stupid bullshit from the songs his sister used to like, that was how Sandor remembered such unimportant detail.

Or maybe because he used to like those songs too. Until the day he saw an ugly monster in the dirty mirror of his room and knew there was no way he would ever have a soulmate. The Seven didn’t like the monsters, it was known too.

Sandor tried to drown that little hope in wine, or dump it in somewhere in the middle of a swordfight. He did his best, as always, but somehow it huddled itself up in a corner of his mind and didn’t want to go away.

***

And then he saw the world through her eyes once again.

It had to be his soulmate’s only second nameday, so there was nothing interesting happening around. He saw the huge room with close shutters and a dim light coming from the hearth. It was late, and his soulmate was already lying in her bed, too huge for a little girl. She was staring into a hearth and Sandor had no idea what she was thinking about. He hoped that she didn’t have any painful memory about the fire in her mind.

She heard her little sigh and then his little soulmate closed her eyes and slowly drifted to sleep. And Sandor was back in his usual world in the Red Keep, his thoughts racing like the toughest warhorse, his heart beating like the loudest drum.

He wasn’t there even for a half-hour, probably because the little girl fell asleep, but it was enough for him.

The hope had left his mind and find its rightful place in his chest, where it blossomed like the most beautiful flower Sandor ever saw in his futile life.

It wasn’t a dream, it wasn’t a weird made-up fantasy.

He really  _ had _ a soulmate.

He wasn’t alone anymore.

***

Sandor knew that the girl was still too young, most probably she didn’t even remember seeing the world through his eyes, but he didn’t care. He decided that he will become a better person for her.

Maybe it wasn’t the wise decision for a man who was called a Lannister dog or Queen’s lackey, but he didn’t care. There was a little girl somewhere in the world whom the Seven or whoever in charge made Sandor Clegane’s bloody soulmate. And there was no way Sandor Clegane could fail her. He hated failures anyway.

He cut down on wine he used to drink after the long hours of looking after Joffrey or training with dumb soldiers who served the King. He stopped visiting brothels. He tried to do something with his usual anger, but it was the most difficult part of his plan to become the better person. It was impossible to calm down while being surrounded by the people who lived in the Red Keep. He had to deal with it later on.

He never paid any attention to his nameday, it had never mattered to him. He had no friends or family to celebrate that day with, so he always spent it seeing to his regular duties. And drinking after he was done with them, of course. 

Now everything was different. He was sober, he was trying his best to avoid getting himself into any fights with the fellow soldiers, he did everything to stay calm and composed during the whole day, praying to any god or devil that Joffrey will act like the most obedient child in the whole Westeros. There was no way he could let the poor little girl to see any wicked or cruel part of his life.

Hopefully, he didn’t fail.

***

He made sure to not look in the mirrors on his nameday.

Just in case.

***

Of course, he was more interested in his soulmate’s namedays. Sandor was eager to learn at least where his soulmate was from, but somehow for the first couple of years, he was able to enter her little world when nothing important was happening around.

On her third nameday, he spent the hour watching her playing with the newborn pups in the kennel. There were two more kids with her, two boys who looked a little older than she had to be, but the little girl didn’t pay too much attention to them. She was focused on the pups and Sandor wanted to laugh at the strange twist of fate. Of course, she had to love dogs. Little did she know she was about to get one for herself in the place of a soulmate.

On her fourth nameday, Sandor was stuck in the room with an old maid and a crying cocoon. He had a tough training with the recruits in the training yard in the morning and spent the rest of the day guarding Joffrey, whose spoiled character was starting to show off. Being trapped with a fussy babe was the last thing Sandor wanted right now, but there was no way he could escape his soulmate’s head. She didn’t mind the cries though, and tried to help the old maid, cooing over an angry cocoon and calling it Arya. She even sang a little lullaby, and the cocoon had calmed down and drifted to sleep. She had a childish, but a very sweet voice. Like a singing bird.

Her fifth nameday she spent in her bed with a fever. When she opened her eyes, Sandor saw a maester bending over her and trying to encourage her to drink some hot water with herbs. Sandor had no idea what was in that drink, it didn’t look like something the master in Clegane’s Keep would offer him when he was ill. But it didn’t smell too awful, and Sandor wished he could encourage the little girl to drink it and have some sleep to hunt the fever away. Too bad there was no way for him to do so. He was only an uninvited guest in her head, who could only observe her life and wish for a day of their first meeting to happen as soon as it was possible.

***

“You need to tell me about your soulmate, Sansa,” the brown-haired girl pouted and looked at his soulmate with a sheer interest. “I know you had to have one. You’re a future lady, after all.”

_ Sansa _ .

It was her sixth nameday, and Sandor had finally learned her name. He started to call her a little bird in his mind when thinking of her, but now she finally had a name.

And what a beautiful name it was. Sandor had no idea how she looked like, she never looked at her reflection during the times he was seeing the world through her eyes. He only knew she had auburn hair. She was playing with a strand of hair right now, and Sandor thought she was nervous.

Was it because of her friend’s question? She was six, she had to realise that there was someone destined for her. After all, she was able to see the world through his eyes, just like him, right?

“Um,”  _ Sansa _ said and lowered her eyes. They were sitting somewhere in the garden full of unfamiliar flowers. Judging by her name, those flowers had to be from the North. Just like his soulmate.

“Come on, tell me!” her friend grinned and Sandor spot two of her front teeth missing. “I’ve already told you about the sea I saw on my soulmate’s last nameday, now it’s your turn.”

“I d-don’t have a soulmate,” Sansa squeaked, squeezing her eyes shut.

She was lying. Sandor knew she was lying. She knew about him, but still decided to lie to her friend. He could hear it in her voice.

He could also hear a  _ fear  _ in her sweet voice. As if she was truly afraid of him, like he was afraid of fire.

Her friend pouted and mumbled something back, but Sandor didn’t hear any of her words. They didn’t matter.

***

Why was she so afraid of him?

Was she repulsed by him being her soulmate?

Did she see his ugly face?

Why was she scared so much of his existence?

Sandor drunk himself into oblivion that night. And cried like a little babe. Good thing he managed to lock himself in his room before those stupid tears appeared.

He never knew there could be so much pain in his chest. Right in the place where the tiny hope had blossomed all those years ago.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My back betrayed me, so there're some changes in my initial plan for this fic.  
> Chapters 1-3 will contain Sandor's POV, chapter 4 will be dedicated to Sansa's one, and chapter 5 will have a guest-star POV of Catelyn Tully Stark herself.  
> I hope you enjoy it.

Sandor didn’t really remember how he spent his next nameday. It didn’t matter. His soulmate didn’t want him anyway, right?

The only thing he remembered was that after he was done with his duties for the day and Joffrey was given into hands of his fussy chambermaids, Sandor found himself on his horses’ back outside of King’s Landing. He ended up sitting under a random tree, a wineskin in his hand. His horse made a disapproving snort, but Sandor didn’t care. He wanted to get drunk.

Still, he dared to hope that little Sansa had already used her possibility to observe the world through his eyes earlier today. Maybe she didn’t want him, maybe she was afraid of him, maybe she hated him.

Even then Sandor didn’t want to look like a total failure in her eyes.

  
  


***

  
  


“Sansa, you can’t spend your nameday hiding under the blanket.”

Sansa sighed instead of a proper answer and tightened her grasp on a soft fabric. Sandor had no idea for how long he was in her head now, maybe it was almost an hour already, as his soulmate had spent all that time in a total darkness under the blanket in her room. Her eyes were tightly squeezed too.

“Sansa,” a gentle, but serious voice repeated, it had to be her mother. “Everyone gathered to wish you a happy nameday. Your father will be upset, as well as your siblings. Did you know that Arya made something for you?”

Sansa sobbed, but didn’t put the blanket away.

It was her seventh nameday, but she was already a stubborn girl.

Just like Sandor himself.

“Don’t hide there in the darkness,” her mother said with a sign. “Think about your soulmate, what will he think of you if the Gods decided that now is the perfect time for him to get in your head?”

“I don’t have a soulmate,” Sansa mumbled.

Again. She said it again.

The whole year had passed since Sandor heard her lying to her little friend, and he was sure that he had fully embraced the fact his soulmate didn’t want him.

But the pain was back, and way stronger than before.

“I know you have one,” Sansa’s mother chuckled. “Don’t think any of us forgot your passionate stories about seeing the Red Keep through his eyes. Or have you made them up?”

“I didn’t!” Sansa pouted, shoving the blanket aside. and turning to her mother “I saw it, I swear!”

Her mother smiled and tucked a loose forelock behind Sansa’s ear. She had auburn hair too, and Sandor wondered if his soulmate looked like her mother.

The woman in front of him looked somehow familiar. Sandor was sure he saw similar traits before, but now he was too distracted by Sansa’s words and actions he wasn’t able to put all pieces together.

“Then why are you telling that you don’t have a soulmate?” she asked her daughter. “You know that the Seven aren’t happy with lying little girls, right?”

“Because I don’t want him to be my soulmate,” Sansa pouted. She tried to stay calm and confident, but her voice was shaking, even if a little bit.

She was  _ truly  _ afraid of him.

“You know that the Gods are the ones who choose us our soulmates,” her mother shook her head. “There’s nothing we can do about it.”

“Then I don’t like those Gods,” Sansa grumbled as angrily as a little girl of seven was able to. “They are stupid.”

“Don’t say like this,” her mother sighed again. She reached out and took Sansa in a warm embrace. She was gently stroking her hair, as if she tried to calm her daughter down. She wasn’t angry at Sansa for her words, but Sandor knew she wasn’t happy by her reaction.

Sansa didn’t say a word. Her vision blurred a little bit, and Sandor knew she was about to start crying. Because of him.

“He is a monster, mother,” she whispered, hiding her face in her mother’s shoulder. Her little body was trembling now, and Sandor realised he wanted to die.

If he died, his soulmate would be free of him, right? She won’t need to live in fear of meeting a destined person who was a mere monster in her eyes.

She had to see his reflection somewhere, now Sandor was more than sure of it.

Or maybe she saw him beating someone bloody.

Or maybe she saw him drinking himself into the oblivion.

It didn’t matter what exactly she was able to see. She hated him, she didn’t need him in her life. He had failed this little girl even before meeting her.

He  _ was _ a monster.

“Sansa,” her mother sighed again, and there was a sheer sadness in her voice. She was rocking her daughter and caressing her hair, and Sandor wished his mother was alive. Maybe he was a grown man now, a warrior, a killer, but he wished he could feel his mother’s embrace.

He needed one right now. At least from the only living soul who loved him for who he was. Even after half of his face was burnt off.

Sansa’s mother was quietly whispering something on her ear, but Sandor didn’t listen to her words anymore.

And then he was back into his room in Red Keep.

He needed the strongest wine he could find.

  
  


***

  
  


He needed a warm embrace too, so he went outside to get himself a whore. He hasn’t been to brothels since he discovered that there was a little soul destined for him, preferring to deal with his needs using his own hands. But it didn’t matter anymore, right?

It was a wrong place to look for a comfort or a warm embrace, but Sandor didn’t care.

He took the first available woman and paid a couple of gold stags for her services. He thought to ask her for an embrace for that extra pay. Maybe he was ugly, but a golden stag wasn’t.

He wasn’t betraying little Sansa. She didn’t want him, so it couldn’t count as a betrayal.

Right?

  
  


***

  
  


It was the first time when he lost to the buggering Jaime Lannister in the training yard. Sandor clenched his teeth and stood up, searching for his wooden sword.

“You look tired, Hound,” the Kingslayer laughed at him. “Had my nephew finally run you ragged with his requests?”

“Not your business,” Sandor snapped back. He wasn’t in the mood for a so-called friendly talk. He and the Kingslayer weren’t friends anyway.

“But you do look tired,” Jaime Lannister said with a serious note with his voice. “And I’m sure there’s something on your mind, and that’s exactly why you are acting like a greenboy who saw the training sword for the first time.”

Sandor snorted and bent down to pick up his sword. He didn’t want to answer Jaime Lannister’s stupid questions.

“Let me guess,” the Kingslayer chuckled even after Sandor turned around and headed away. “If it isn’t about my nephew, could it be because of your position in the court?”

Sandor made another snort, hoping he didn’t sound too offensive. Maybe Jaime Lannister was his sparring partner for today, but at the same time, he was a son of his liege. And Sandor wasn’t looking for any trouble.

“Your brother?”

“No.”

“A woman?”

“ _ No _ .”

“A woman, then,” now it was Jaime Lannister’s turn to laugh. “Your shoulders tensed.”

“Whatever,” Sandor grumbled, turning around. He didn’t need anyone to know about his soulmate. Especially from the Lannisters.

He didn’t want to tell anyone he was hated by his soulmate.

“And judging by your reaction, it isn’t about a whore,” Jaime Lannister scratched his chin. “Didn’t think you were visiting brothels, anyway. Well, until some soldiers saw you rushing out of the one recently. Sorry to tell you, but they were taking bets on how many women fainted because of your face.”

“As if I care,” Sandor shrugged. He wasn’t lying, he didn’t care what his fellow soldiers thought of him. Nor that he cared about them discussing his brothel’s visit.

At least nobody knew that his visit had turned into a huge failure. It cost him three more stags to make sure the whore stayed quiet about the fact he left the brothel without an actual fuck.

Maybe he was a pathetic wanker, but somehow he still cared about his soulmate. Even after everything he heard.

“Well, if there’s no whore involved, I suppose there’s a woman you really care about,” Jaime Lannister chuckled. “Never thought I will say something like this in your face, Hound, but listen.”

“What now?” Sandor frowned, crossing his hands on his chest. He was already tired of this pointless conversation.

At least Jaime Lannister was having fun.

“Here, have a piece of advice from me,” he pointed his finger at Sandor. “As from a fellow warrior with some experience.”

  
Sandor wished he never knew about the  _ experience  _ the Kingslayer has had. Being Lannister’s dog had its downsides.

“You’re the Kingsguard, you don’t suppose to have any experience,” he barked out a laughter.

“Sometimes our lives are full of surprises,” Jaime Lannister said with a cackle. “But listen, Clegane. No matter which woman is on your mind, don’t let your brain fool you. Sometimes things are not what they seem.”

“And what kind of riddle is this one?” Sandor clicked his tongue. He knew there was no way the Kingslayer will tell him anything important, but those stupid riddles?

“I’m saying that you shouldn’t trust any woman with your whole heart,” Jaime Lannister laughed. He sounded kind of sad.

“Thanks for the advice, but I’ve already know it.”

“Unless she is your soulmate, of course,” Jaime Lannister added, as if he didn’t hear any word that had just left Sandor’s mouth.

He  _ was  _ sad now.

Sandor wondered if the Kingslayer’s soulmate hated him too.

***

Sansa’s eighth nameday wasn’t special. But at least she didn’t hide from her family anymore. Sandor watched her playing with her siblings in a huge yard, she was laughing and smiling at them, her worries forgotten.

He wondered if her mother’s words on her previous nameday had helped her.

He wondered if she was thinking of him at all.

Sandor hoped she did.

She had some black and yellow ribbons in her long braids, and a stupid voice inside Sandor's head was whispering it couldn't be a mere coincidence. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still not fully back yet, but at least I was able to write something.  
> It might suck, tbh.

Sandor was ready for everything. He was a warrior, he was a killer, he was a man grown. He took part in so many bloody fights and was called  _ a monster _ by his soulmate. There was nothing else left in this world that could surprise him or make him feel an utter shock.

He was ready for everything.

Or so Sandor thought until he opened his eyes on his soulmate’s nameday and saw bloody Eddard Stark kneeling in front of Sansa, smiling at her and adjusting the laces on her another pretty dress.

Buggering hells.

_ Why. _

He knew that Sansa was from the North, he knew it as soon as he heard her name for the first time, as well as saw it in the buildings and nature which was surrounding her. Even her favourite flowers and little birds were the northern ones, so Sandor had already decided that he would have to travel to the North for one of her namedays in the future.

Apparently, he would have to travel to the seat of Warden of the North.  _ Oh fuck _ .

To be honest, he has already been suspicious about Sansa’s upbringings for a while. Her dresses were always neat and clean, and made from the good fabric, not that Sandor had any knowledge about the  _ fabrics _ . She was always acting so polite and well-mannered, even when her little sister (judging by her name, she had to be that angry bundle Sandor had a chance to meet all those years ago) had almost ruined Sansa’s seventh nameday. Even the walls of the keep she lived screamed that she wasn’t coming from a simple family.

_ But still _ .

Sandor watched his soulmate giggling happily at her father’s joke about her being a perfect little lady who could outshine the Queen herself, and wanted to sigh. Not because he disagreed with Eddard Stark. In Sandor’s eyes, little Sansa, who had just turned ten, was the thousand times better, purer, and truer than Cersei Lannister.

But he wanted to sigh anyway.

He had no idea who of those nonexistent spiritual buggers decided that the whole thing of him becoming a soulmate of Sansa  _ Stark  _ was marvellous. Him, a lowly Lannister guard dog.

As soon as Sandor was back in his body and world, he took a deep sigh and closed his eyes. Everything was so messed up. He tried to imagine himself appearing at the gates of Winterfell, asking the sour northern Lord for a hand of his daughter, and laughed so hard that his stomach started to hurt.

What a messed up world he was living in.

Well. At least by Sansa’s tenth nameday, he dared to hope that she didn’t hate him anymore.

At least he finally realised why her mother looked so familiar. Another solved mystery from his side.

  
  


***

  
  


The next time he saw Sansa, she had turned one and ten and had a new pet. Or a friend. Sandor had no idea how to call that strange connection she had with a small wolf, who was quietly following her around and licking her hands as soon as Sansa tried to scratch its chin or ear.

To be honest, Sandor wasn’t sure if it was even a wolf. It looked like a wolf, walked like a wolf, yapped like a wolf, but there was  _ something wrong _ in it. Not bad, just  _ wrong _ . Almost as if it was that beast from the tales his mother used to tell him when he was a babe. Something about the huge wolves from the cold North.

Sansa’s pet was small, it had wobbly legs and tail, and was licking its mistress at every possible occasion, making her laugh and close her eyes from the sheer happiness. It looked nothing like the beast from his mother’s tales.

Even if it was that  _ direwolf _ , Sandor decided he wouldn’t mind. As long as it was making Sansa happy, it was fine.

He just had to make sure it would accept him as Sansa’s soulmate.

  
  


***

  
  


“So, do you know what your soulmate looks like?” that Sansa’s friend was too nosy again.

At first Sandor groaned from the possibility to spend the whole hour in the circle of Sansa’s little friends and listening to their babbling. She was three and ten now, and it looked like that all her friends were around her age. Not the best time to get stuck in the all-female company.

But then that Jeyne girl asked Sansa about her soulmate and she lowered her eyes, biting her lip, and Sandor became curious about her answer. He didn’t hear her talking about him since that bloody nameday when she was crying in her mother’s embrace. He only knew that after that she was never so scared and so despaired again. And she was constantly adding those black and yellow ribbons to her outfit, it  _ had  _ to mean something.

Maybe today was his chance to finally learn what she was thinking of him now.

“Did one of the kitchen cats get your tongue?” Jeyne laughed, dragging Sandor from his thoughts, and Sansa shuddered as well. It looked like she was too busy with her thoughts, too.

“Oh, sorry,” she said, looking around at the girls and sighed. “But yes, I saw him.”

Of course, she did. Sandor had no idea how it had happened, he made sure he was avoiding anything that could be used as a mirror on his namedays. But she had to see his reflection at some point of her life. Because there was no other reason she thought him a monster when she was a child.

“Sansa, you’re blushing!” one of the girls giggled, and Sandor was sure he would gape if he were in his own body.

“I’m not blushing!” his soulmate murmured, lowering her eyes once again, and Sandor knew her face had to be on fire.

What in the deepest hell was happening?

Why was she blushing when asked about his hideous mug?

Maybe she saw someone else’s reflection and thought him to be Sandor? Someone like Jaime Lannister, for example. Sandor was sure that bugger was near him at some occasions during some of his namedays, it had to be his nasty face Sansa saw and decided it belonged to her soulmate.

It was the only explanation Sandor had for her reaction.

Another mystery solved.

“Come on,” Jeyne giggled, swinging her legs in the most unladylike way, as if she wasn’t a lady at all. “You’re blushing because of the thoughts of your soulmate. So, is he handsome?”

“What colour is his hair?” another girl piped in, looking at Sansa with the most curious expression Sandor ever saw.

“And his eyes?”

“Is he handsome, like one of the knights from the book you have?”

“Is he even a knight?”

Sansa bit her lip, her fingers clinging to her dress with all their might.

“I don’t know if he is a knight,” she slowly said, her voice so quiet as if she was whispering to herself. “But he’s so…”

“Handsome?” Jeyne frowned.

“Comely?”

“Ew,” Sansa’s little sister, who looked like she was forced to sit in this company, commented and turned away, mumbling something about stupid girls.

Sansa took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

“He’s beautiful,” she finally spat and Sandor knew she was talking about Jaime Lannister.

That earned her a dreamy sigh from her friends and a gurgling sound from Arya.

“Tell us more!” Jeyne insisted, moving closer to Sansa. “I mean, I’ve told you about Theon as soon as I saw him for the first time, so now it’s your turn.”

“I don’t know what to tell!” Sansa squeaked and covered her burning face with her delicate little hands. “He is… He looks so strong and fierce, with all his bruises and scars, but I know he is very gentle. And his hair is black. And he has beautiful grey eyes. And he is very tall. And he looks… He looks like a northerner.”

_ What _ .

Sandor felt his head spinning. She wasn’t talking about Jaime bloody Lannister. Or about someone else. She was talking about… him?

She said he was  _ beautiful _ . What a strange word to describe him. He wasn’t beautiful, or even handsome, like those girls thought. He had a half-scarred face and ugly marks all over his body. He wasn’t a man a young lady of three and ten would call  _ beautiful _ . Or any lady at all.

He had no idea what was going on in Sansa’s head, he didn’t want to know what kind of illusion she created to ease her inner pain of being connected to him.

But he kind of… liked it?

He had no idea what was going in his head.

He hoped that the smile on Sansa’s face was reaching her eyes.

  
  


***

  
  


She had to spend an entire hour watching the world through his eyes on his nameday.  _ Great _ . Sandor made sure to look in the mirror at least once an hour for the whole time he stayed awake.

He didn’t want to scare Sansa off, not at all. He simply wanted to know that she was aware of his burnt, ugly face. Just in case.

It would hurt Sansa if her little world made of strange illusions would shatter at the time of their first meeting.

It would hurt him too, but Sandor didn’t want to admit it.

By the end of the day he was fed up with his scarred mug, but he knew it was for the best.

  
  


***

  
  


She decided to spend some time of her nameday on the bloody  _ embroidery _ . What a perfect little lady she was.

Sansa was sitting in a large room with her mother and her septa, who were chatting about something Sandor didn’t pay attention to. He was focused on the soft fabric in Sansa’s hands, or was it Sansa who was too focused to pay any attention to anything else around her?

She was working on a huge, warm cloak, embroidering little yellow patterns on its hem. There were some leaves and wolves as well, and Sandor thought it had to do something with her being a Stark.

Sansa finished the last stitch of the pattern and hummed to herself, putting her needle aside and stroking the soft black fabric with another warm smile on her face. Her fingers ran over the yellow wolves and Sandor thought it was a weird choice of colour for the famous symbol of the Starks.

_ Unless those weren’t the bloody wolves _ .

That cloak was too big for her anyway.

  
  


***

  
  


He thought about that huge cloak for the whole year until her next nameday.

What a bloody moron he had become.

  
  


***

Sandor wasn’t a knight or a lord from the High court, not at all, but even he knew that it wasn’t polite to stare at someone else’s naked body without clear permission.

Unless he was trapped in his soulmate’s head and wasn’t even able to look away or close his eyes.

Who in the deepest hell has decided that he had to get in Sansa’s head when she was about to take her bath?

There was a huge tub standing in her room, but Sansa decided to take her time after she took off her light shift. She looked down at her body and Sandor felt a rush of discontent running through her while observing herself.

He had no idea why she even had that feeling. In Sandor’s humble opinion, her body was  _ gorgeous _ . And he wasn’t even able to see it fully, but he liked everything that he was able to catch through her eyes for sure. Her perky little teats, her long legs, even her toes were  _ perfect _ .

There was no reason for her to be unsatisfied with herself, not at all.

But Sansa sighed and slowly walked in the direction of the tub, letting her hair down on her way. Long auburn tresses hid her teats from Sandor’s view, but he didn’t mind them at all. With her hair loose, she had to look like the goddess.

Bloody hells.

It was torture.

She got in her large tub and started washing herself, and Sandor had to observe her every move. As well as more of her gorgeous body. If he weren’t in her head, he would be hard already, but for now he simply had to watch her running her soapy cloth over her teats and legs and hands, and there was nothing that could save him from that torture.

But it was the sweetest torture Sandor ever experienced, so he had no reasons to complain.

Finally, she put the cloth aside, but instead of getting out of the tube and heading to the bed, Sansa made herself comfortable in the water and closed her eyes with a little sigh.  _ Finally _ .

She hummed something under her breath once again, letting the warm water flow over her body, and Sandor knew she was finally able to relax, even if for now. 

And he had to calm down too.

It was so weird, but even after taking a proper look at her body, Sandor was still unaware of her face. Somehow, it was Sansa who managed to avoid all the mirrors or surfaces which could show him her reflection. And Sandor was very curious to see her face.

She had to be beautiful.

No, she  _ was  _ beautiful.

That Sandor knew for sure.

Sansa gasped and opened her eyes. The water in the tub was getting colder, she lazily stretched her body and Sandor caught the sight of the auburn mound between her unbelievably long legs.

He wished he could close his eyes.

Or not really.

Sansa made a tiny whimper once again and ran her fingers through her damp hair, moving her hands lower and touching her bare shoulders. Sandor wished he could feel the smoothness of her creamy skin under her fingers.

Bloody seven, even her skin was  _ perfect _ .

Sansa’s hands moved a little bit lower, running over her little teats. She giggled at the touch, and Sandor tensed. As if it was possible while being in the head of his soulmate.

He didn’t like what was going on, not at all.

Or did he?

Sansa uttered a tiny sweet moan when one of her hands had finally reached those curls between her legs, moving a little bit lower.

_ Oh fuck _ .

_ No _ .

Why didn’t she close her eyes, like any proper lady?

Sansa’s touches between her legs were too shy and inexperienced, as if she had learned that a woman could find such a strange pleasure just recently. She was making all those tiny squeaks and moans, her breath fastened and she finally closed her eyes, leaving Sandor with all those divine sounds, accompanied by the loud splashes of the cold water.

It had to be the worst torture he ever experienced, for sure.

She murmured something under her breath, something almost unrecognisable.

It sounded almost like his name.

And then she was done.

Sandor opened his eyes and realised he was back in his tiny room in the Red Keep.  _ Bloody hells _ .

He was hard, just as he thought while watching Sansa.

Sandor cursed and unlaced his breeches, taking his aching member out. He wasn’t sure it was the right thing to do, to touch himself at the memory of his innocent soulmate’s body and actions.

Or not so innocent anymore.

He closed his eyes and heard her murmuring his name just right before she managed to find her complexion.

  
_The sweetest torture, for sure_.

***

The King announced they were going to Winterfell.

Sandor closed his eyes for a second and hoped he didn’t look like a happy idiot in front of the Lannisters. They didn’t need to know about Sansa, not at all.

He hoped she would be happy to see him, too.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm expanding this fic because I fell like this.  
> For the first time in his life, Joffrey did nothing wrong.

When she was just a little girl, she had no idea what was going on. She didn’t remember those moments when the world around her had suddenly changed and she was seeing an unfamiliar place, a place which was so different from her beloved Winterfell. When she first realised something was very odd she was almost four. Well, three and a half, but Sansa used to say to all the guests of their keep that she was _almost four_.

She blinked while trying to pay attention to what Robb and Jon were blabbering about, and then the world around her had suddenly changed. She wasn’t in their pretty garden where magnificent blue roses grew, she was in a _huge_ hall. Way bigger than the main hall of Winterfell. And there were people everywhere, dressed like everyone around her was from another noble family.

But the strangest thing was that suddenly she wasn’t looking at everyone from the height of a little girl who was almost four and was always told she was quite tall for her age. She was towering over everyone, and the view from that position was something that took Sansa’s breath away. She was able to see everyone around her, beautiful ladies with strange hairstyles and fancy gowns, unfamiliar soldiers who wore white cloaks and shining armours (all of them had to be knights, Sansa was sure of it), a bored little boy who was standing nearby and yawning, a beautiful lady who was sitting on a huge chair in front of everyone, next to man Sansa never saw before.

She was looking around and trying to memorise every detail of this strange place, wishing she could never leave but wanting to get back to Winterfell so she could share her divine vision with everyone.

And when she was back, she jumped off the bench and ran to her mother, leaving her brother and Jon to stare at her in utter confusion.

  
  


***

  
  


Her father told it was the famous Red Keep she saw in her vision, and her mother said she had to see it through her soulmate’s eyes. Sansa didn’t know very much about those soulmates, apart from the fact her parents were the ones, and that in almost every tale a beautiful princess had met her brave soulmate before the end of the story, so they could live happily ever after.

If having those strange visions meant she would live happily ever after with a brave man, Sansa decided she didn’t mind them.

“If you were in the Red Keep, perhaps, you could be connected to the Prince?” her mother said as she smoothened out Sansa’s skirt.

Her father hummed something about sending the raven to the King, but Sansa knew her mother was wrong. She knew that the Prince was just a year older than her, there was no way he could be _that_ tall at the age of _almost five_. It had to be someone else. Someone older and stronger than that prince Joffrey. Perhaps the Prince was that young bored boy, who was kicking the ground with his boot tip. Somehow Sansa was glad her soulmate wasn’t that Prince.

She didn’t tell her parents about that discovery, though. Maybe she was just _three and a half_ , but Sansa was always praised for her cleverness. So she decided to observe her soulmate for a couple of years more.

  
  


***

  
  


He wasn’t just the tallest man Sansa ever met (well, maybe he was shorter than Jon Umber, but it was difficult for Sansa to tell), but also the strongest one. She saw him training with other men, and he easily knocked them down without any single word. Maybe he was very tall and had very big hands and broad chest (although it wasn’t something young lady like Sansa had to pay attention to), but at the same time his movements were precise and quick, and he made all those men look like green boys who saw their wooden swords for the first time in their lives.

Sansa had no idea why he was spending his nameday on a mere training, but decided it suited him well. If he was her soulmate, he _had_ to be strong and brave, just like those knights from her favourite tales. She started to pay way more attention to all those stories and imagined her meeting her soulmate later in her life.

Too bad he was never around any mirror or surface where she could see his reflection. And the Seven knew how much Sansa wanted to finally see his face. It would be easier for her to imagine their perfect marriage ceremony if she knew how his face looked.

***

It was his nameday, and he was at the training yard _again_. Sansa really wanted to puff, but she was trapped in his body so there was no way to do so. Unless her soulmate would decide to do the same thing.

Maybe being in the training yard and fighting all those soldiers made her soulmate happier. Like her favourite lemon cakes made Sansa happier each time she ate them during the feasts. At least he wasn’t bored like during their first ‘meeting’, when he wasn’t happy about being in the great hall of Red Keep, surrounded by all those noble people. It was still difficult for Sansa to understand all his emotions, but she was getting better at it.

Today her soulmate’s opponent wasn’t just a mere soldier, but a member of Kingsguard, Sansa knew it as soon as she saw his shining armour. He also had to have a white cloak, but it was nowhere to be seen, perhaps he took it off to be able to move freely while sparring her soulmate. The man in front of her - in front of her soulmate - had soft facial features, piercing green eyes and beautiful hair, he looked like a knight from a huge book full of fairytales her mother had read to her and Arya sometimes. It was a very old and precious book, so the girls weren’t allowed to touch it yet.

Sansa never saw him before, but she realised it had to be Jaime Lannister. The Kingslayer, as her father used to call him. For a man with such a moniker, there was well-trained and there was no fear in his eyes while fighting her soulmate, like all those men from the last year used to have.

Apart from being famous for killing his King, Jaime Lannister was also known for being a stunning fighter - but in the end even he yielded in front of her soulmate, throwing his wooden sword away and raising his hands in a sign of a defeat.

“Alright, Clegane, it hurts me to say so, but you’re a winner today,” he sighed and stepped back. “But it doesn’t mean I won’t be able to kick your arse next time we spar.”

“You wish,” her soulmate snorted, turning around and walking away. He wasn’t a talkative man, Sansa noticed, but she liked his voice. It was very deep and sounded a little bit hoarse, as if he was trying to growl like a dog, but she liked it. It kind of suited him, with his height and his strength and his fighting skills.

And now she finally knew something else about him. Jaime Lannister called him by his House name, and Sansa wanted to be back in her body as soon as it was possible, so she could run to someone who knew more about the great Houses of Westeros. After all, Sansa was still too young to start learning about them.

  
She couldn’t wait to finally learn his _name_ too.

  
She decided that _lady Sansa Clegane_ had a very sweet flair.

***

She asked her father, as father was the wisest man Sansa ever met. He was a well-known warrior who was respected all over the Westeros, he had to know about every House. Her father was busy, but Sansa decided to wait and approach him with her questions as soon as he would be alone in his solar. Somehow it felt right, she wasn't sure it was a good thing to talk about her soulmate with someone who wasn't her parent. And she wasn't sure that her mother would know about these Cleganes. After all, Sansa never heard of them before, and she was always paying attention at her lessons.

But there was no way her father wouldn't know about a strong and fierce warrior who was as tall as the noble Jon Umber, and was feared by the common soldiers because of his strength, and was able to defeat even the Kingslayer, so Sansa went to him and asked about the man she saw in her visions. She decided to went from afar and not mention that, in fact, she was talking about her soulmate. Just in case. She simply wanted to surprise her father after he would proudly tell her about the greed deeds the man called Clegane had made in his life.

She never saw her father's face going pale _that_ quickly.

***

When Jeyne asked her about her soulmate, Sansa closed her eyes for a second and lied to her best friend. She knew that lying was a sin, but there was no way sweet Jeyne would ever learn that Sansa's soulmate was a man everyone feared and called a monster for what he had done to the innocent people by the orders of his liege.

She knew that lying was a sin, but Sansa wished she could lie to herself and pretend that she was never connected to a man they called the Mountain.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm expanding this work simply because I can.  
> I'm really sorry but currently I have another wave of self-castigation regarding my writing, so it sucks.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair.

Everyone used to say she was the most obedient, the most clever, the most perfect young lady. Her mother said so, her septa too, and maester Luwin always praised her behaviour. Her father had the same opinion, and every lord who visited Winterfell always commented on her being a good girl and making her parents proud.

She always did whatever she was asked, she listened to everything her parents or septa or maester were telling her.

And she prayed. To the Seven and to the Old Gods too. She was a good girl.

And that’s how those Gods acknowledged her devotion and propriety.

Made the most horrible man alive her soulmate.

She didn’t deserve such a despairing future. She was a good girl.

Life wasn’t fair at all.

  
  


***

Her soulmate wasn’t just a ruthless killer or rigorous rapist. Apparently, he was a drunkard too. Well, it fitted him very well.

Sansa knew that his nameday was approaching, and she spent several nights waking up and silently praying to all the Gods she knew to save her from a torture of seeing the world through his eyes. She didn’t want to be stuck in the body of a monster, even if for an hour.

They didn’t answer her prayers. Something had to be wrong with her if none of her words reached the ears and souls of the Gods. Did they even have ears and souls?

It didn’t matter, at some point she blinked and the world around had changed. As it always did on that day of the year.

But this time everything around her was not as clear as before. Her soulmate was sitting on the ground under a huge tree Sansa wasn’t able to recognise. It had to be one of those trees from the South, for sure. She was able to spot different trees and bushes and flowers around him, and Sansa guessed that he was somewhere outside of the city. Spending his nameday in nature.

But when he observed the world around, it was quite blurred. Sansa had no idea what was going on, she even thought that he managed to damage his eyesight in one of the cruel battles he was so fond of, but then he raised a half-empty wineskin to his lips.

Sansa felt a surge of despair washing over her.

Her soulmate was a monster  _ and _ a drunkard to boot.

Just exactly the type of a man every young lady wished to see next to her.

Sansa had no idea why this world was so cruel.

Her soulmate wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and threw his wineskin on the ground. Then, with the same movement, he wiped his eyes as well, and suddenly the world around him and Sansa became much clearer than before.

He wasn’t drunk.

He was crying.

Why was he crying? He was a monster, and monsters simply weren’t able to cry, it was known. Sansa was so confused, there was no reason for a person like her soulmate to cry on his nameday. After everything she heard about the Mountain, Sansa wasn’t even sure he was even able to spell that word. He didn’t have a soul, but now, sitting under that unfamiliar tree all alone, he was crying.

Sansa had no idea what was going on.

  
  


***

  
  


Seeing him cry didn’t change Sansa’s perception on her soulmate or her future. There was no way she could spend her future with the man these cruel Gods had chosen for her. 

Sansa wanted to forget that he existed. To blot out from her memory everything she saw through his eyes, as well as everything she heard about her soulmate.

She didn’t want to use his name even while thinking of him. He was just a  _ soulmate _ for her, a faceless and nameless monster whose deeds were well-known for everyone in Westeros. And even out of it.

She never told her parents the reason why she stopped her dumb blabbering about the whole soulmate thing. She tried to avoid the subject of what she was seeing through his eyes when talking to her siblings or Jeyne.

She tried to create a distance between them so hard that the most reasonable thing Sansa came up for her nameday was to spend it in her bed, hiding under the warm furs.

If she hid there, her soulmate won’t be able to see her. Or her siblings. Or her parents. Or Winterfell. And it would mean he won’t be able to recognise where she lived to come at the gates of Winterfell and demand her father to give her to him. He was her soulmate, after all. He had all the rights to do so. So she had to hide, and all those furs on her bed were the perfect place to execute her plan.

And then she won't need to marry him.

It was a perfect plan, but then her mother ruined everything. She was trying to calm her down and explain that there was no way the Gods had chosen a  _ monster  _ for her. Her mother said that maybe she simply misunderstood something, maybe she made some wrong assumptions regarding her soulmate. After all, Sansa was just a little girl.

Sansa wanted to laugh and cry at those words. There was no way she  _ misunderstood  _ something. Her father said that the man from her visions had to be the Mountain, and Sansa knew that father was always right.

She wanted to cry and tell her mother the truth, but in the end, she didn’t. She was afraid her mother would see her as a disappointment. And her father too. And everyone else in Winterfell.

It was her secret, her punishment from the Gods for something she did in her life. Did they give her such a soulmate because she wasn’t paying attention to some of her lessons because of the thoughts about the fairytale her mother read to her and Arya the night before? Or was it because she tore her pretty skirt when she was playing with Jeyne and hid it in a huge trunk, so no one could find it. Oh no, it had to be because she ate some extra lemon cakes when she was five and said it was Robb.

She was just a child, but the Gods saw her as a sinner. She knew it for sure.

Her mother caressed her hair and said again that there was no way her little daughter’s soulmate could be a monster.

Sansa wished her mother was right.

***

She almost managed to convince herself that she didn't have a soulmate.

But she knew his nameday was approaching, and there was no reason for her to ask the Gods to spare her from the misery of seeing the world around her through his eyes.

She simply knew they won't listen to her, just like last year.

Life wasn't fair at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~don't worry Sansa, there's a completely different punishment for those who decided to eat some pastry and blame their brothers for doing so lol~~


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this fic in July as a little present for myself, and well, something went wrong :D

It was her soulmate’s nameday, again, and Sansa was ready to observe any atrocity. After all, she knew very well what her soulmate was capable of. She heard enough from people in Winterfell.

Instead of the expected atrocities, she saw a naked chest.

If Sansa could scream, she definitely would do so. But she was trapped in her soulmate’s body, there was no way for her to scream. Just observe.

Her soulmate was  _ naked _ . By the Mother, why did he have to be such a horrible monster and get  _ naked  _ on his nameday? At least he was standing in the river, and it was quite dark already, so she could see only his naked chest and stomach. As well as his huge hands.

He was washing himself in a river, and Sansa wished he could stay here long enough, so she wouldn’t see anything inappropriate. She was a lady, and her soulmate had to think about her _feelings_. He knew it was his nameday, he knew she could watch him at any time, why he had to undress himself and get into the river?

Not that he cared for her or her feelings.

Her soulmate turned a little bit and looked down. Sansa wished she could squeeze her eyes shut, but he took a little step back and instead of anything _inappropriate_ Sansa saw his face.

Alright, she wasn't able to fully see his face, he was looking at his reflection from a certain angle, and part of his face was covered by the strands of wet hair. His hair was long and black, and reminded Sansa of the hair of her father. Her soulmate was from the South, but he kept his hair like a northerner. 

And his face. If he wasn't a monster, Sansa would call him _handsome_. He looked like a handsome northerner, and not like a monster from far away. His nose was huge and a little bit hooked, but it was a nice nose. And the rest of his features were comely enough to attract the attention of the other women. Not that Sansa cared about the _other women_. But her soulmate was strong and handsome and had such a nice hair.

And he had scars all over his body, many scars from the old fights. It was right for a man like him to have those scars, he was a warrior, a soldier. _A killer_.

Her soulmate stared at his reflection with a frown. She stared at himself, and Sansa stared at him in return. She decided he had nice eyes, too. Too bad they were full of the emotions she couldn't interpret. Her soulmate looked like he was sad, but it was impossible, why he was trying to be sad every time she was in his head? Was he doing it on purpose, so she could start pitying him? Was it the wicked plan of his?

Or maybe...

Maybe he was just _sad_?

Sansa wanted to shook her head, but she couldn't do anything while being trapped in his head. So she was staring at him, watching all those emotions which were following each other in his eyes.

The weird sadness was replaced by the indifference. Then her soulmate frowned once again, and she saw he was disappointed in something. She wondered what he was thinking of right now. Then the acceptance came, but it didn't stay there for long, the stupid sadness was back, this time mingled with some sort of despair. 

It was so _weird_.

He didn't look like a monster, he looked like a regular man who was too sad because of something. But Sansa knew her soulmate wasn't a regular man, he was the Mountain, he was... Not a _regular man_ , for sure.

She heard a very loud neighing from the riverbank, and her soulmate finally raised his head to look at his horse.

It was a very handsome horse. Not even a horse yet, a colt, but it was very handsome anyway. Sansa wished they could have such a beautiful horse in Winterfell.

“What do you want, Stranger?” he rasped sulkily, and the colt replied with a neigh in the same manner. It had to share its temper with the _naked_ man in the river, for sure.

He named his horse after the one of the Seven Gods. Only a monster could do such a blasphemous thing!

Her soulmate clicked his tongue and bent forward to dip some water, and then he looked at his reflection and Sansa felt her heart sink to the bottom of her stomach.

He turned a little bit because of his colt earlier, and now she was able to see another side of his face. The one which was covered by his long hair before.

Another side of his face was  _ a mess _ . It was covered by scars, by burn scars, as if his face was intentionally pressed into the fire. It was a horrible, very frightening sight.

She saw many burn scars before. All smiths of Winterfell had them because of their work. As well as some soldiers. Even Robb had one, when Theon double dared him to touch a huge hot pot in the kitchens. It was a small scar on the back of his hand, but Robb was proudly showing it to everyone, as if he got it during the battle.

But those scars on her soulmate’s face… The one on Robb’s hand looked like the tinies scratch, compared to them. Sansa wondered where he had managed to obtain them. Probably during the sack of King’s Landing. She always heard the whole city was on fire during the battle.

Or maybe it had happened before that. Or maybe after. Her soulmate was a cruel monster, he could obtain them at any point of his life.

He washed his face and his scars and looked at his reflection once again. Sansa saw the burnt corner of his mouth to twitch, as if he was repulsed by his scars as well. But he was a monster, there was no reason for him to be repulsed. Monsters always liked to look scary, it was known.

He sighed, and Sansa realised he was sad. There was sadness in his eyes, too. He looked tired and sad and resembled a true northerner. Apart from his scars and monstrous soul, of course. 

But he was sad, and Sansa had no idea why. At least she was sure it wasn’t because of her, somehow she knew her soulmate didn’t care about her, she was able to leap to such a conclusion after everything she heard about the Mountain. She heard that he was married once, so he didn’t care about her. And his wife was dead, it meant he didn’t care about anyone.

But when she was finally back to her own body and mind, the sadness in her soulmate’s eyes haunted her until the rest of the day.

  
  


***

  
  


It haunted her for much longer, but Sansa didn’t want to admit she  _ cared  _ for him. There was no way she could  _ care _ for such a man. She was simply puzzled by the whole thing, that was the answer.

  
  


***

  
  


Robb said that playing faceless knights and heroes was boring, so they had to play the Battle of King’s Landing. Sansa didn’t want to play, there were no roles for her and Arya. Well, Arya said she wanted to be their father, and Theon laughed at her.

Jon said he wanted to be their father as well, he had black hair and grey eyes, after all. And Robb decided to pick King Robert. Their names were quite similar, so it counted.

“I don’t want to be the Mad King,” Theon clicked his tongue. “If Arya wants to play, she should be the Mad King.”

Arya wanted to kick him, but was stopped by Sansa at the very last moment.

“You need to act like a lady,” she told her little sister. Arya was already six, she had to learn her manners!

“I’m not a lady, I’m the Mad King!” Arya announced and kicked Robb, who was standing next to her.

“You can pick any other knight,” Jon quietly spoke to Theon.

“Or just be Tywin Lannister,” Robb laughed. “At least then you could simply sit there and order imaginary knights around. Or you can be the Kingslayer. Or the White Bull. Or the Mountain, I don’t know.”

Sansa flinched at the nickname her brother mentioned. Why did he have to remind her of that monster right now?

Theon screwed up his face.

“That’s a stupid game for children,” he said and shrugged. “I agreed to play with you only because Robb asked me, anyway. I’d better go and train with the recruits.”

He took his wooden sword and left.

Robb and Jon sighed.

“It’s a shame Theon doesn’t want to play with us anymore,” Robb said and kicked the ground with the tip of his boot.

“I bet he was simply disgusted to pretend he’s the Kingslayer,” Arya huffed. “Or too scared to be the Mountain.”

Sansa sniffed.

“No one would like to pretend they’re a monster, Arya,” she said to her little sister in a preaching tone. “And it would be difficult for Theon to recreate all those disgusting scars, anyway.”

Those scars weren’t  _ disgusting _ , but Sansa had to make her point.

Robb and Jon laughed at her words.

“The Mountain doesn’t have any scars, Sansa,” her brother said with a patronising smirk. “You’ve messed things up again.”

Sansa wasn’t a boy, she didn’t know much about the knights and wars and all other stuff like that. But she knew that her soulmate had the whole side burnt off.

“Aye, it’s the Hound who has scars on his face,” Jon added in a calmer voice. “I bet no one possibly could scar the Mountain in  _ that _ way.”

_ What _ .

What they were talking about?

Sansa saw her soulmate. He had burn scars and very sad eyes. And her father told her it had to be the Mountain.

“Sansa doesn’t know the things, as always!” Arya laughed at her, but this time Sansa didn’t care.

She had no idea what was going on.

“Who is the one with the scars, then? The Hound?” she asked her brothers, and both of them frowned.

“It’s Sandor Clegane,” Robb shrugged in the end. “The Mountain’s little brother.”

“He isn’t  _ little _ , father said he was taller than him at the time of the Sack of King’s Landing,” Jon elbowed in the side of his half-brother.

So they were connected.

_ Oh _ .

Did it mean her soulmate wasn’t the Mountain?

Did it mean he wasn’t a…

“And this  _ San-dor _ ,” she said and felt her throat going dry. “Is he as bad as his brother?”

“I have no idea,” Robb shrugged again. “At least he isn’t known for the similar crimes as his brother. He serves the Lannisters, though.”

“I heard Ser Rodrick mentioning something about him being the Prince’s shield,” Jon piped in. “So it means he isn’t  _ that _ bad.”

“I agree,” Robb nodded with a serious look. “Father always said that King Robert is a wise man, there’s no way he would allow any horrible person to guard his heir.”

“Can we start playing?” Arya whined, tugging at Robb’s breeches. “I want to play and I am hungry!”

Her brothers faced Arya and started to discuss something, but Sansa didn’t hear a word they said.

She could only hear her heartbeat. Too loud and too strong.

She thought she was going to faint.

Her soulmate wasn’t a monster. 

  
  


***

  
  


Her soulmate wasn’t a monster.

Her soulmate wasn’t a monster.

_ Her soulmate wasn’t a monster. _

And he had such a beautiful name. It sounded a little bit like hers one, it  _ had  _ to be beautiful.

Sansa buried her head in the pillow and cried. She didn’t know why she was crying, but she  _ had to _ .

Those were tears of relief, she thought. And also of shame, because she knew she doubted her soulmate. But she wasn’t guilty! It was just a mere misunderstanding, but she was ashamed of herself, anyway.

And he looked sad. His soul was sad, too. Was it because of her? Sansa didn't want him to feel sadness because of her, it wasn't fair!

And she doubted the Gods and their will, she wasn’t as good as she thought. But even then the Seven and the Old Gods didn’t punish her. They were the good Gods, after all.

Sansa was crying and she knew those were tears of happiness.

Somehow she knew her soulmate  _ cared  _ for her, too.

  
  


***

  
  


Her mother gifted her a new dress on her nameday. It was such a beautiful dress, made from the blue silk and embroidered with silver and grey colours. She wore the dress and in the mirror she saw little  _ lady  _ Sansa Stark. She straightened up and tilted back her head straight away.  _ Now  _ she looked like a lady.

She said she wanted to have braids today. Her mother sent away the maids and took a wooden comb.

“Choose the ribbons, and I will braid your hair,” she said with a warm smile. Sansa liked when her mother was doing her hair, so she smiled happily and ran to the chest of drawers where her ribbons were hidden.

She picked the white ones, they would go perfectly with her dress, but when she was about to turn around she noticed another ribbon. A black one.

As black as the dogs on her soulmate’s sigil were. Sansa smiled to herself and put the white ribbons back. Now she had to look for a yellow one, too. She hoped her soulmate would be happy to see her wearing his colours.

And she could look like little lady  _ Clegane _ . Sansa giggled at the thought and ran back to her mother, holding out the ribbons she found.

She knew she would be the most beautiful girl today, and she wanted her soulmate to notice it, too. It was such a wonderful idea, after all.

  
  


***

  
  


She knew it would be a very difficult journey, but Sansa decided to become the best soulmate Sandor Clegane could ever wish for. She was a very good girl, there was no way she could fail in such a task. 

She wanted to be happy, and she wanted to see that stupid sadness to go away from his eyes. Because she  _ cared  _ for him.

She had no idea when she was going to meet him, but she knew that as soon as it happened, there was no way for her soulmate to look sad again. Or to feel sad. 

Sansa would take care of it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catelyn's POV ftw

Sansa looked so excited and so nervous at the same time.

Catelyn saw she was trying to act like a proper little lady she was, but her erratic movements and shifty eyes betrayed her.

The King was coming to Winterfell with his court, it wasn’t a mystery she was so nervous. Everyone in Winterfell was waiting for the arrival of the Royal party with huge anticipation. Even Ned was running around and checking if everything was ready again and again. Everyone was nervous, it wasn’t something strange.

But Sansa… Her nervousness was quite  _ different _ .

Catelyn tried to approach her daughter and help her to calm down a little bit, but it didn’t work. Sansa thanked her and smiled, but Catelyn knew her hands were trembling a little bit. And her eyes were gleaming. How strange.

It was only when the guards announced the arrival of the travelling party when Catelyn remembered her daughter’s stories from her childhood. When Sansa was a girl, she was always blabbering about the Red Keep and her soulmate with the most serious expression a little child could have. Then, she suddenly changed her attitude and was trying to assure everyone that she never had any soulmate, that her soulmate wasn’t someone she wanted to see in her life. She even called him a  _ monster _ , that was what Catelyn remembered for sure. And then she suddenly stopped talking about him at all. She never mentioned her soulmate to her or Ned after that, but Catelyn knew that once a year, most probably on his nameday, she was spending time secretly smiling to herself. And Arya once complained about her sister being so stupid and head over heels for that stupid soulmate of hers. Arya had a soulmate, too, but she ensured Catelyn she would never  _ swoon  _ over him, it was the most stupid thing to do.

Her soulmate was spending a lot of time in the Red Keep, Catelyn thought when she and her family gathered outside to greet the King and his court. She had no idea who that person was, but suddenly she realised that there was a chance of him coming today to Winterfell. Perhaps, Sansa had the same idea.

But Catelyn wasn’t just a curious mother. She was the Lady of Winterfell, she had to greet her guests as the wife of Warden of the North. She had her  _ duties _ , and there was no time for her to observe Sansa’s strange behaviour. She was throwing some glances in the direction of her daughter from time to time, though. It wasn’t the most proper behaviour for her as a Lady, but Catelyn wanted to know if her daughter’s anticipation was going to be compensated or not.

Sansa was acting like the most polite girl. She greeted the King, made a courtesy when Cersei Lannister approached her family and eyed them with a cold smile, but her eyes were glued to the crown prince. Catelyn frowned. Was Joffrey Baratheon the one her daughter was waiting for all that time? Somehow it didn’t feel right, if the prince was her soulmate there was no way the King didn’t inform her husband about that. Catelyn has heard from Ned that Robert was eager to join their houses and didn’t take very well the fact all of their children had other people as their soulmates.

But Sansa was looking at the direction of the crown prince and Catelyn noticed her eyes were finally free of that strange nervousness. She was smiling, but now her smile looked a little bit shy. And she wasn’t looking at the prince, not at all.

Catelyn was a proper lady by all means, but even then she felt her eyebrows go up in a sheer surprise. Her sweet daughter wasn’t looking at the prince and blushing because of him. Her eyes were glued at the man behind Joffrey Baratheon, the one who was following the prince as a silent shadow. Catelyn had never met him before, but even then she knew who he was. The scars he was trying to cover with his hair were speaking for themselves.

She heard about the man they called the Hound before, even Lysa mentioned him in her letters once or twice when she was living in King’s Landing. She wrote that he was a mean brute and his face was scaring her little son so much he was crying after each of their meetings. There were rumours about him, too. That he was the same beast as his brother, that he was eager to do anything to please the Lannisters, that he was just a mere bastard who had no feelings.

She had heard a lot about Sandor Clegane, and her sweet daughter was looking at him as if he was a knight in the shining armour from one of her favourite tales. Sansa was blushing and trying to pretend she wasn’t  _ eyeing  _ him, but Catelyn knew best. She was her  _ mother _ , after all.

Sandor Clegane didn’t say a word, he was just standing there in the shadow of the royal family and pretending he was bored by everything that was going around him. But Catelyn noticed he was looking at Sansa, too. She had no idea what he was thinking about, she wasn’t able to see his eyes, and he was standing half-way round, facing everyone with the good side of his face. At some point his cheekbones turned the lightest shade of pink and Catelyn almost snorted at the discovery. It had to be because of Sansa, she was more than sure of it.

She was waiting for her daughter to come and tell her about the fact she had finally met her soulmate, but Sansa said nothing. When everyone retreated to their quarters, she hurried into her room with that shy smile still playing on her lips. She wasn’t acting like her usual self, and Catelyn sighed sadly. Her sweet little daughter was growing up.

She was quiet even when Catelyn had helped her to get ready for the feast. She was talking about the royal family, about her expectations for the feast, about the cheerful atmosphere in Winterfell, but she never mentioned anything about Sandor Clegane. She was smiling, though, and Catelyn decided not to press the case. She didn’t tell Sansa she knew about her and that man, too. Maybe she was a mother and a lady, but she wanted her daughter to be able to experience that sweet and thrilling feeling of having a secret of her own.

The feast went even better than Catelyn was expected, she hoped the guests had truly enjoyed it. The King was more than pleased, for sure, judging by the amount of wine he drank and coarse songs he started to hum at some point, it had to be the best feast in his life. Ned looked satisfied by the whole affair as well, and Catelyn allowed herself to relax a little bit. She still had to tell her husband about Sansa and her soulmate, but she knew it could wait for a little bit.

Sansa, on the other hand, got tired quite quickly. She announced she wasn’t feeling well and bid goodnight to both of her parents before leaving. Catelyn decided to pass off Cersei Lannister’s comment about weak women of the North, none of those little comments could worsen her spirit right now.

But then she realised another thing no one paid any attention to. Sandor Clegane was missing from the feast, too, and Catelyn frowned. It could be just a mere coincidence, many of the guests and their people had left the feast at some point. Besides, she knew that Sansa was raised properly, she couldn’t engage herself into something scandalous or frivolous. Even with a man who had to be her soulmate. But Catelyn was a  _ mother _ .

She told Ned she had to absent herself briefly, even though she had no idea where her daughter went. She didn’t want to look like a nosy and bothersome mother, but she had to make sure Sansa wasn’t in danger. Just in case, just to compose herself.

She wanted to check her daughter’s room first, but then she saw a light coming from the stables. Catelyn knew very well that everyone had to be at the feast right now, she saw the stablemaster making a drunken bet with one of the Lannister’s soldiers. It wouldn’t hurt her to check the stables, just in case. The stables had always had a loose flair, after all.

She quietly approached the door, and then she heard her daughter’s voice. Sansa was laughing, and Catelyn never heard her laugh like  _ that _ . It was a happy laughter, but a shy one at the same time. And also a very cheerful one. There were so many different emotions in that short laugh, Catelyn had no idea how that was even possible. She wondered if she was sounding the same when she was with Ned, she probably was.

Catelyn didn’t want to announce herself, but she wanted to take a look at her daughter and that man. The door was slightly open, and when she made another step she was able to have a little peek at them. They were standing sideways, there was no chance they could see her. And there was that huge horse of Clegane blocking her view a little bit, but even then Catelyn was able to notice that her daughter had the widest smile on her lips. And she was blushing, too. She had no idea if Clegane was blushing at something Sansa was quietly telling her, she saw the left side of his face in their current positions. But then Sansa shyly reached out her hand and cupped his disfigured cheek without any disgust. Clegane said something she couldn’t hear, he almost blurted his words, but then he leant into her touch and Sansa’s lips trembled a little bit.

She looked so excited and so nervous right now, and she made a little step forward, as if she wanted to kiss the man in front of her. Or to receive a kiss from him, even if that was the most improper thing for a young lady to do.

It wasn’t something for Catelyn to stare at, it was time for her to leave. At least she knew her daughter was safe and happy, and at the moment it was everything she had to know.

She would speak to Ned later on, after the feast would be over and they would retire to their bedroom. She wanted to ask him some questions about Sandor Clegane, as well as to share the news about her daughter’s soulmate. She had no idea why, but she was sure Ned would be shocked by the reveal. Maybe she would even have to calm him down, and Catelyn knew a way or two to do so. After all, she was his wife and soulmate.

And she was a mother, too. And as a mother, she had to make sure everyone in her family would accept Clegane as the man the Gods had chosen for her sweet Sansa. Catelyn knew there was no way the Gods could be wrong. She told that to Sansa many years ago, when she was scared by her soulmate, she would repeat those words as many time as it was needed. After all, she was right.

Sansa turned out to be enchanted by her soulmate to a great extent, despite everything that could repulse her from the man Sandor Clegane was rumoured to be. It was a good sign, Catelyn knew it for sure.

She knew her daughter will be happy. And that was everything that mattered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, it's over :'D  
> i suppose this is my last update in 2020, so, i really want to thank everyone who was here with me and my writing this year. your support is very important for me, and i want to hug everyone, and wish you all the best in the upcoming year <3 i', really glad i'm still here. maybe i will post more blabbering on my tumblr later today, who knows.  
> thank you <3


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